What's Scarier than a Republican Whip?
by Minxy
Summary: A Buffy/West Wing Crossover Event! Toby is a vampire. No one is surprised.


What's Scarier than a Republican

What's Scarier than a Republican Whip?

by

Minx Trinket

Disclaimer: Joss, meet Aaron; Aaron, Joss. 

Author's note: There's really no good excuse for this one. I do realize that. But it seemed more a thing for the Wingnuts than the Slayerettes. Apologies in advance to Toby fans, but, I mean, please. Who else?

Josh Lyman, lounging in Sam's office with one leg over the arm of a chair, squinted one eye, took careful aim, and bounced the bottle cap off the rim of the trashcan. It fell into the can with a satisfying, papery crackle. 

"In. Your turn," he said.

Sam Seaborn leaned over from behind his desk to fish the cap out of the trash. "Score?" he asked.

"I'm winning, 8-6."

Sam sat bolt upright and cried, "Liar!"

"Come over here and call me that again, tough guy."

"I will not," he sniffed. "It's beneath my dignity."

"Oh, but whining isn't?"

"I'm not whining. I am pointing out a fact, and that fact is that is that you're a big fat liar."

"Am not."

"Are too. You're a liar and a coward. You're cheating just to get out of the meeting with the Senate Republican Whip and stick me with it."

"I don't like that name, 'Whip.' Why d'ya think they call them that?"

"You really do have issues."

"I defy you tell me two words in the English language that are scarier than 'Republican Whip.'"

"Boys?" Donna asked, popping her head into the office.

"Don't you mean 'gentlemen'?" Josh asked.

"No," she said, "pretty sure I don't. Sorry to interrupt, but there's a Buffy Summers here to see Toby and nobody can track him down. You wanna talk to her, Sam?"

"Sure, send her in."

Josh stood up. "I'll get out of your way."

A petite blonde in a tube top and hip huggers entered the room and flashed an electric smile. 

"Or not," Josh corrected, and held out his hand to her. "Hi, I'm Josh Lyman, Deputy White House Chief of Staff."

"Buffy Summers," she said, shaking the offered hand.

"It's very, very nice to meet you."

Sam stepped up and jostled Josh aside. He took her hand and said. "Welcome to the White House, Miss Summers. I'm Sam Seaborn. I'm Deputy Director of Communications. I write all the President's speeches."

"Wow," Buffy nodded. "That's…impressive, really. Um, I had an appointment to see, er…." She dug into the pocket of her skin-tight jeans and Josh and Sam watched her, tilting their heads appreciatively. She produced a business card and read from it. "Um, Toby Ziegler, Director of Communications. He your boss?"

"Well," Sam shrugged, "he's not so much my 'boss' as my 'mentor.'"

"And not so much Sam's 'mentor' as 'the man that owns his ass,'" Josh clarified. "Technically, both of them work for me."

"Uh-huh," she said. "Well, do either of you know when he'll be back?"

"Can't say we do," Sam said. "But we'd be happy to give you a hand with--- whatever it is you need."

"Do you think he's gone for the day?"

"I doubt it," Josh said, forcing himself back into her line of sight. "He's kind of a workaholic, y'know? Not much of a personal life. He gets here before sunrise every morning and doesn't leave 'til after sunset."

"I'll bet," Buffy smiled.

"Can we get you something?" Josh offered. "Some coffee, maybe, or water? Juice? Something?"

"Sure," she said. "Coffee's just great."

"_Donna!_" he shouted, leaning out into the hallway. "Can you get us some coffee in here?"

"_No!_" Donna shouted back.

Josh turned to Sam. "Sam, go get the lady some coffee."

Toby appeared in Sam's doorway. "What's going on, gentlemen?" he asked darkly.

Buffy Summers spun around and beamed at him. "You're Toby Zeigler, aren't you?" she asked brightly. "I'm Buffy Summers, from the UC Sunnydale Journal."

"Oh, yeah, right, hi," Toby replied, and shook her hand perfunctorily. "Let's take this in my office."

Buffy bounced off beside Toby and into his office next door. He closed the door behind them. Josh and Sam, each sticking their heads out the door to watch her go, sighed.

"Damn," Josh said.

"Hot damn," Sam agreed.

"Y'know," Josh said thoughtfully. "Toby's not even gonna notice she's a girl, much less a hottie."

Sam jerked his head toward his desk. "I'll play you for her."

Josh squinted. "Bottle caps?"

"Paper footballs."

"You're on," Josh said, and then "_Ow!_" as Donna, whizzing by with an arm full of files, smacked him on the back of the head.

"Pig," she said simply, and disappeared around a corner.

As they were about to duck back into the office, Josh and Sam heard an unusual sound coming from Toby's room. It wasn't Toby's shouting, because that wasn't unusual. It wasn't the girl yelling at him, which wasn't unusual either. But the crash of splintering wood and metal as furniture was hurled against a wall, _that_, well, that was different. Sam looked at Josh. Josh looked at Sam. They looked at Toby's door.

With a thud, Toby's door hit the hallway floor and he and the girl tumbled out into the corridor, a ball of limbs. They bounced against a cubicle wall and rolled to a stop, the girl straddling Toby. She had his tie in her left hand and a big pointy stick in her right.

"Hey," Sam protested weakly.

"We're gonna make with the dustage now, 'kay?" Buffy asked sweetly.

"Excuse me," Toby spat, "but was that supposed to be _ENGLISH?!_" He grabbed Buffy around the waist and tossed her away. She flew past Josh and Sam and landed 10 feet down the hallway with a bounce. Toby leapt to his feet, shaking his fist in the air. "This is what I'm _saying_ people! The damn Republicans are _never_ gonna stop screaming for _vouchers_ if _this_ is what our public schools are producing! Homicidal maniacs with no grasp of syntax!"

"Grasp this," Buffy sneered, and backflipped rapidly down the hall toward him. Toby dodged, and she landed on her feet behind him, stake poised.

"Well, aren't you witty!" he said. "'Grasp this.' How clever, how original!"

Sam blinked at Josh. "Should we call the Secret Service?" he asked.

"Give it a minute," Josh replied, eyes on the action. The combatants were fighting hand to hand now, punching and kicking.

"You know," Buffy panted, between blows, "I am _so sick_ of aging Baby Boomers making cracks at _me_ and _my friends_. I mean, HELL-o, who raised us, people? And don't go playing all pure as the driven snow. Can we say 'Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test'? Can we say 'The Doors'?"

"You tell 'em, girl," Donna agreed, flitting by with a bust of George Washington under one arm and a bowl full of live goldfish under the other.

"Jim Morrison was a _POET!_" Toby growled.

"Right," she laughed. "Jimbo says he wants to kill his _father_, and you call him a poet. Eminem says he wants to kill his _mother_, and you call him a psychopath."

"Y'know, she's got a point," Sam said.

"Shut up, Seaborn," Toby spat. "Eminem's a hack. And if anything, you've just proven how unoriginal his line of bullshit is! Your clothes, your music, your complaints about the planet, they're completely derivative! Devoid of original thinking!"

"Also a good point," Josh nodded. Buffy shot him a look. He backpedaled: "I mean, interesting. Maybe, Buffy, you and me could discuss it, over dinner, maybe?"

"Smooth," Sam muttered.

"Shut up, Seaborn," Josh snapped.

"Our screwups are 'derivative," right," Buffy said calmly to Toby, landing a vicious punch to his solar plexus. "As in, 'all your fault.'"

All of a sudden, horrible ridges blossomed on Toby's forehead, and his eyes glowed a sinister yellow. "One thing we never taught you," he hissed, "was to blame somebody else for your own damn mistakes." Long, ivory fangs sprouted from his canine teeth. Josh leaned toward Sam.

"Ever seen him do that before?" Josh whispered.

"Once or twice," Sam shrugged.

"Hate to disagree with you, big guy," Buffy sighed, slipping aside as Toby lunged for her throat. "But you guys were the original 'Tune in, turn on, drop out' crowd. If it wasn't about music and dope you figured it was someone else's problem and left if for your kids to straighten out." She executed a whirling crescent kick that caught Toby in the small of the back. He went down. "Well that's what I'm here for, to clean up your mess."

Toby scrambled, crab like, away from her and shimmied up the wall to his feet. "Why do you think I do this job, Summers? For the media scrutiny? The cold pizza at midnight? The flattering drab gray suits? I know we've messed up, okay. We thought we were gonna fix the world, and we ended up making things worse. But we're _trying_. Don't you get that?"

Buffy's face softened. She let her stake hand fall to her side. "You really mean that, don't you?" she asked quietly. Donna brushed past her, carrying Leo over her shoulder.

"Yes," Toby sighed. "I do."

"So really," Buffy said, stepping toward him, "aside from the part about you being a blood-sucking, soulless killer, we're on the same side here."

"I guess so," he shrugged.

"Huh," she said thoughtfully, and staked him.

Toby, looking more surprised than anything, crumbled to dust at her feet. She flipped her hair, threw another dazzling smile at Josh and Sam, and said, "Sorry 'bout that. It's my job."

"S'allright," Sam nodded.

"Yeah, no problem," Josh nodded.

"Nice meeting you," she said, and ran into Toby's office. There was the tinkle of broken glass, a thud as she landed on the lawn, and the sound of her running footsteps fading in the distance.

"Y'know, I think I thought of two scarier words," Sam said. "'Vampire Slayer.'"

"Yeah," Josh admitted. "She's still damn hot, though."

"You said it."

C.J. entered the hallway from the pressroom and, surveying the mess in the hallway with a frown, approached Josh and Sam. "What happened here?" she asked. Josh turned to her.

"Toby was a vampire," he said mildly.

"Slayer got 'im," Sam added. "Wanna get a beer, Josh?"

"Sounds good."

As they strolled away, C.J. threw her hands in the air and shouted, "Why doesn't anybody keep me in the _loop _on these things?!"__


End file.
